Lost Creek Hollow espu[m]a

This goal of forgetting was only made more impossible.

Silvertongue was sweet and kind. Her touches were soft, considerate of his needs. Crowfeather found himself so uncomfortable by the act that he was forced to explore thoughts elsewhere. The shadow found that if he thought of the silver eagle, it wasn’t so bad. If he could picture the sharp yellow of Germanicus’ eyes, then her lovingness could be fantasized as something else.

When they had finished, Crowfeather breathed quietly. His honey eyes were left open, through the night. He thought of Akashingo. He thought of the weight of his heart. He thought of how undeserving he was of the beautiful woman who had followed him to Riverclan.

Sleep did not find him. His thoughts consumed everything.